Echoes of Life and Death
by axxisr
Summary: In Vancouver there were people that reminded him of Jacob. People that reminded him of Anderson. People that reminded him why he had chosen to come there in the first place. There wasn't anybody that reminded him of her. Slight AU. After the events of Eden Prime, Shepard finds himself on the run when he is wrongly blamed for Nihlus' death.
1. Invictus

**Chapter 1 - Invictus**

**1725 HRS, May 10, 2183**

**Prothean Dig Site, Eden Prime**

Nightfall came early on the verdant garden world of Eden Prime. John Shepard dropped out of the _Normandy_ and caught the first tendrils of light from the lower winter sun disappear behind the edges of the dig site. At least he imagined it to be winter, if the clouds of his breath were any indication. Come to think of it, he hadn't actually ever been this far away from Earth since Elysium.

Privately, it unnerved him. When you considered the level of policing, Alliance territory was nothing compared to Citadel space. Humans as a race could only do so much compared to the three Council races combined, and Shepard had no desire of becoming some mercenary's bounty or a terrorist's abductee.

"Shepard! No hostiles in the vicinity, but from what we saw on that video I doubt that will last."

The voice was hard to hear over the pullback roar of the engine as their ship ascended back into orbit. Kaidan seemed earnest, no doubt painfully so at times. But he was also yet another one of Anderson's people, which meant that at the end of the day he was an unknown. Actually that designation applied to just about everyone, as Shepard was the one that was curtly plucked from his comfy desk job in Vancouver to undertake this routine mission that wasn't actually a routine mission.

Jacob had teased him, saying that Shepard could now add secretary to his resume, but as long as he didn't have to listen to one more damned lecture from a superior officer that involved the words "Hero of Elysium" he could live with it. Thinking about that day _still_ made him sick. But the only thing worse than what really happened that day might be having to pretend that he was this brave leader for the rest of his life.

Becoming the first human Spectre was supposed to be an attractive proposition, he guessed. Either for the subversive power that came with answering to no law or government but the Council, or the zeal of righteousness that was sure to have any Alliance exemplar drooling with envy. At this point Shepard didn't care; he just wanted his old life back. That comm feed that was broadcasted to the ship before they landed was terrifying enough on its own.

Shepard sighed. One mission. One more assignment and he would tell Anderson and Nihlus that while it was a "great honor" to be considered for the special tactics group, it would be best—for humanity and for himself—if they chose someone else to parade around as the champion of human excellence. He, on the other hand, would simply settle for waking up in his own bed every morning, clearing his desk of the endless amount of paperwork, flirting with Olivia in Accounting, and enjoying a nice, hot shower at the end of every day.

Shepard looked to the young marine on his right and rolled his eyes. Jenkins was staring out over the cliff, transfixed by the expanse of green and rolling hills that was broken up only by the spear-like arcologies that jutted out above the horizon. Eden Prime was, in theory, supposed to be some emblem of humanity—to shine its progress outward to all species. If he was honest, under different circumstances it could've been impressive. But that was not reality anymore. An explosion in this distance refocused Shepard's attention, and over the far ridge he saw one of the large communication towers set up by the workers collapse. This was reality. And Eden Prime, like himself, was not a beacon of hope. It was a facade. And it was crumbling.

"Corporal!" Shepard said.

Jenkins turned and fumbled a hasty salute.

"You seemed eager to get shot thirty minutes ago; now you're a romantic. What changed?"

The marine smirked under his visor but held his salute. "Nothing, sir."

"Then let's get moving."

* * *

><p>Rubble surrounded them as he and Kaidan trudged through what had to be the ninth marsh they happened upon since leaving their youngest squad member behind. Jenkins' death was yet another reminder that whatever was going on here was way out of his depth. They were fighting <em>geth<em>, a race that had isolated itself for centuries. And if Nihlus' check-ins were to be believed, they were slaughtering most of this colony. Jenkins wasn't the first soldier to die under his command, but he'd better be the last.

The sun was lower now, casting spindly shadows over the large slabs of stone that littered his path, which made Shepard more jumpy than he already felt. The dig site team clearly had no concept of logistics. Remains of their construction framed a single pathway through the camps, which had now narrowed uncomfortably. It was the perfect spot for an ambush, and suddenly feeling nervous didn't seem so ridiculous. A root crunched under his foot and Shepard raised his pistol, firing off a few shots at the local plant life blocking their way. It might've been a little over the top, but this planet was a nightmare and he wasn't going to take any more chances.

"If we're gonna meet Nihlus at the dig site, we should move faster." Kaidan looked at him. "You alright, Commander?"

"I—I'm fine, Alenko."

Kaidan frowned but said nothing further, and Shepard understood. If he looked even half as rattled as he felt, it must not have been encouraging.

"Just been a while since I've been out in the field," he said.

They reached the crest of the latest hill in time to see a marine vault backwards, firing on several Geth Recon Drones from her prone position. Two advancing Geth Troopers sent her scuttling for cover, and he motioned Kaidan to move into position to assist her. After they cleared the area of geth Shepard gave her armor a cursory examination. She was alright, and in retrospect probably could've handled those two on her own, but one look in her eyes told him she was running low on something that mattered more than men or shields.

Shepard wanted to say that things were going to be okay, but it was hard to sell her on something that he didn't even believe right now.

She said Ashley was her name, and while he thought he recognized her by the tint of her armor, he was sure of it when she spoke. This was the same woman that sent out the desperate video message the _Normandy _received as they approached the planet. She was alone, and he was a man down, so it only seemed natural for her to join them.

More geth troopers blocked their way before the mix of heavy rock and dense foliage gave way to a wide expanse that could only be the remains of the primary dig site. Many floodlights enclosed the area, but there was no Prothean beacon to be seen. The turian had to have beaten him here and the fact that Nihlus wouldn't communicate a report comment on their mission objective going _missing_ struck him as very strange.

"I-I don't understand it," Ashley said. "The beacon _was_ here."

Shepard made a show of looking around the ruins, but couldn't find evidence that anyone had been here recently at all.

"Somebody must have moved it," she said.

Shepard frowned, already having an idea of who that might be.

Kaidan knelt down and brushed the empty dirt where the beacon had presumably been, then looked up at him. "Nihlus?"

"Who is—" Ashley started before a voice cut into their comms.

"Shepard. Slight change of plans," Nihlus said. "There's a small spaceport in the valley ahead. I'll wait for you there."

With that the communication cut out, leaving Shepard to fume. Having it out over an open channel would serve no purpose, but rest assured, once he caught up and faced Nihlus in person, they would be having a very different conversation. Joker was right it seemed: nothing about this assignment had felt right from the very beginning. This obviously wasn't a test of the stealth systems, and he doubted the sole reason the Spectre was here was to babysit him. The beacon was at the center of it all, and right now it was probably in the possession of a turian that he trusted very little.

"There's a research camp just up over that ridge," Ashley said. "They might be able to tell us something about what happened here."

Shepard looked in the direction Ashley inclined, but the only thing visible over the terrain was smoke and more of those ivory spikes impaled with bodies.

"You really think anybody up there is still alive?"

"Got any better ideas, Shepard?" Kaidan said and started toward the ramp.

Shepard gritted his teeth and nodded curtly. So Alenko's patience with his reluctance to lead this mission was starting to wear thin. It was understandable, but that didn't make it any less annoying. It was also something that had to be corrected sooner than later if they had any hope of making it off this planet alive.

As the camp came into view, the fires and destruction were more evident. Scrap metal was strewn everywhere, and whatever buildings weren't ablaze looked torn apart. The worst part might have been the spikes. The inhuman creations with the very real human bodies atop them suddenly whirred and began to lower. Shepard watched in horror as the spindle rods fully retracted and the bodies began to _move_.

"Oh God," Ashley said. "They're still alive."

By then his was weapon drawn, firing away at the zombie-like creatures purely on instinct. It couldn't have been anything else, because once they had fallen his brain still struggled to string together a coherent thought.

"Well now we know what the spikes are for," Kaidan said.

Shepard nodded and looked to Ashley, who had cautiously approached one of the corpses and gave its head a gentle kick.

"They're turning our own dead against us," Ashley murmured. She took a deep breath and examined the area. "Looks like you were right, Commander. There's nobody here."

Shepard was about to agree with her until something out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. It was a security panel. It had been beaten up, sure, but it still looked functional, and it was plastered next to the door of one of the few housing units that was still left standing. It didn't look like much, but that unit was realistically the only place any survivors could have holed up and hoped to survive. He stepped over the charred remains of a door and led his team to the two buildings that remained untouched by the chaos. They entered the first unit cautiously, and found it dark but empty. Kaidan salvaged a few packs of medi-gel before joining Shepard and Ashley outside the second building.

"Careful, Shepard. There could be more of those things in there," Ashley said.

He held back a quip about these zombies evolving enough faculties to re-wire a security system. Half the time these damned things still gave him trouble and he was one degree away from being a qualified engineer. Yet another thing he could be doing instead of getting shot at.

After some fiddling, the panel acquiesced and the door creaked open, the mechanism straining against its weight. His squad stepped back and braced their weapons, ready to strike at whatever new monster was waiting inside. Shepard grasped the barrels of their guns and lowered them when the huddled group came into view under the dim light. Nihlus had the beacon, and they had found survivors. As far as he was concerned this mission was over, and not a moment too soon.

"Whoever is in there, we're getting them to safety," he said.

Before Kaidan could form a protest, Shepard turned and beckoned them to follow. They stepped inside and Shepard noted that there were no zombies present, just few frightened, shivering scientists.

Ashley let out a small gasp. "Dr. Warren, thank God you're alive." she said. "Amanda is the head of the archaeological team. Do you know why the beacon isn't at the dig site?"

The doctor was younger than he expected the lead scientist of an excavation to be, with short, red hair and a patch across her chest. Her blue and white uniform was crisp and when she spoke her tone carried an air of authority. Only the bead of sweat across her brow and the slight waver in her voice gave her away.

"We knew the Alliance was sending somebody, so the beacon was moved to the spaceport for everyone's convenience. It all happened so fast. The marines offered protection, so we hid out here when the attack came." Dr. Warren dropped her gaze. "Manuel and I are the only ones left, as you probably know by now."

Her assistant looked much more like the type of person he expected to find working on unearthing an ancient artifact on the edge of Alliance space. Manuel was an impish, balding man with beady eyes and, at the moment, could not stop fidgeting or wringing his hands.

"No one is saved. The age of humanity is ended. Soon, only ruin and corpses will remain," Manuel said.

Shepard raised an eyebrow and looked to his squad, who offered nothing that approached reason or understanding. Ashley, in fact, had her gaze squarely locked on the floor.

"Did either of you see a turian pass through here?" Shepard said.

The doctor looked to her assistant. "We haven't seen any-"

"I saw him! The prophet. Leader of the enemy. He was here, before the attack," Manuel said.

Dr. Warren made a placating gesture. "I'm sorry. We're all a little unsettled since the attack, Manuel especially. Once his meds kick in, he should calm down a little."

Kaidan started to say something, but Shepard motioned for the squad to exit. "Thank you for your help," he said. "Give us a minute and we'll get you out of here."

Dr. Warren nodded as Shepard stepped out of the housing building, followed by his two marines.

"Don't tell me you actually believe that nonsense," Kaidan said. "Nihlus was with us on the _Normandy_, it's impossible."

Okay, so Kaidan had a point. Plus, Manuel's rambling was evidence enough that the assistant was clearly stuck somewhere between bewilderment and insanity. However crazy the guy might be, he was also smart enough to get this posting, and it didn't seem like he was lying. Every clue they uncovered on this mission seemed to lead to things making less sense.

"I don't know what to believe anymore." Shepard took off his helmet momentarily to rub his forehead. "I am tired of being kept in the dark though. Here's what we'll do. You two take the doctor and her assistant back to our drop point, and make sure they get on to the ship safely. I'll advance to the starport, and find out what exactly is going on."

"Shepard!" Kaidan said. "That's unacceptable. Anderson gave us our orders. The primary objective-"

Shepard wheeled on the lieutenant. "The primary objective is _secure_, Alenko. You heard Nihlus; he's at the spaceport with the beacon. The survivors are the mission now, and right now I'm giving you an order."

"Sir, what about the geth?" Ashley said. "You want us to leave you alone out here? Who knows what's left between you and your turian."

Shepard paused for a second. He hadn't considered that. Most of his thoughts had been focused on what exactly he was going to say to Nihlus when they were alone. "You know this colony, Williams. How far away is it from our current location?"

"The beginnings of the structure are just over that hill, Commander, but that doesn't mean-"

"I'll be okay. If I run into any trouble, I have a Spectre to back me up." His squad looked unconvinced, and Shepard knew he'd have to give them something to get them to go along with this amicably. "Alright, fine. It shouldn't take long to secure those two. Once you've done that you can double back and meet me at the starport. I'll be the guy stretched out and reclining, waiting to say, 'I told you so.'"

Ashley nodded and looked to Kaidan, who appeared less convinced. "Aye, Commander, but be careful," she said.

"Take care of yourself, Shepard," Kaidan said.

And with that, they both disappeared back into the dilapidated building.

* * *

><p>Williams was right. After trekking up the rocky expanse outside of the camp, Shepard began to see traces of his destination. Most of his view was blocked by a large outcropping, but once he rounded the last corner in front of him, the valley below would be in full view.<p>

But, as with so many things, he quickly came to regret that his plan had played out exactly as intended. For when the starport came into view, he gasped and the sight nearly knocked him over. Hovering just beyond the reaches of the valley was what could only be described as the most terrifying thing he'd ever seen. It was a ship, or at least he _thought_ it was a ship. It swelled bigger than any dreadnought he'd ever seen. The thing had several arm-like extensions supporting its massive insectoid body and had to be at least several hundred meters from base to tip. The most disconcerting part had to be the arcing lasers that pulsed over its outer plating. That combined with the faint droning noises gave him an eerie feeling that it was alive. If this was a geth creation, it was more advanced than anything the galaxy had ever seen.

A bullet whizzed past his helmet and it was enough to get his attention. More geth, a few recon drones and a trooper from the looks of it. Shepard ducked back behind the corner and gripped his pistol. The firefight was short, his shields taking the brunt of the damage. After holstering his weapon, he kicked one of the fallen recon drones out of his path, feeling a little melodramatic as he did so. He had no illusions of being a hero, but also no intention of calling for Nihlus' help and giving away his position. It wouldn't be long before he found out what was really going on here, and this time it would be on his own terms.

Shepard scanned the lowland below and spotted two bulky frames in the distance instead of one. It took almost a minute of running before he was able to make sense of it. Nihlus was easy to spot, with his red-trimmed onyx armor and his distinctive face markings. The other figure was undoubtedly turian, but otherwise unfamiliar. He was lighter, both in his skin tone and armor, and, like Nihlus, was brandishing a weapon. Shepard struggled to keep his eyes on the aliens and away from the colossal ship as he jogged toward them. There was also no sign of a beacon from his vantage point, and that was troubling enough on its own.

Nihlus turned to face the entrance of the valley and even in the twilight, there was no way the turian could've missed him. The comm in his ear crackled to life as he saw Nihlus fumble with his communicator, but the Spectre never got a chance to say a word. His turian counterpart raised the taloned hand that held his pistol and a gunshot was the only thing Shepard heard over his helmet speaker. He blanched as he watched Nihlus' body fall limply to the ground.

By now he was in a full-on sprint, but realized fairly quickly that he'd never make it in time. The unknown turian was out of sight now, escaping through the shipyard in the direction of that towering warship. If Nihlus' assassin was working with the geth, Shepard had to reach him before he got to his ship or he'd likely be lost forever. It was then the ship shrieked, and this time it was enough to knock him over. The droning was thunderous and anything besides the pain cracking through his skull ceased to exist. Thinking was impossible, moving even more so. He cupped his ears and watched as the ship rose higher and higher then slowly disappeared out of vision. Just as slowly, the droning faded, and the throbbing in his head with it. It took a few minutes to regain enough strength to get to his feet, and even then his steps were shaky.

Shepard crossed the remaining distance to the spaceport, haltingly and with great effort. Nihlus' body lay crumpled in the middle of an open deck area. He knelt down next to the turian's body and grunted with effort as he rolled it over. One look into Nihlus' eyes told him enough: the Spectre was dead. Shepard took off his own helmet and tossed it aside in frustration. Nihlus' death didn't absolve him of guilt, but it almost certainly meant that now he'd never get any answers. He rested his hands on his hips and belatedly noticed that his own weapon was missing. It must have come loose when he was writhing on the ground in pain, and honestly at that point pretty much everything aside from the agony was an afterthought.

Shepard grabbed Nihlus' pistol, which had clattered to the ground not far from its owner, and stood. He spit out some blood and tried to scan the area. The warship was gone, and that likely meant the turian was as well. Even if his assumption about the alien's escape plan had been wrong, there was no way Shepard was catching anything in this condition. Right now walking was enough of a challenge.

The spaceport itself was tiny, with one docking bay that looked seldom used. A backwater farming planet like Eden Prime probably didn't get much through traffic, aside from the freighters, despite its moderate level of fame. The level of devastation present here was nothing compared to what he had seen in the rest of the colony, probably due to neglect. Shipping crates were piled up in almost every corner and vegetation threatened to overtake the small ramps that led to the platforms. Just beyond the dock itself lay the foundations of a cargo tram, but the car itself was nowhere in sight. Still, the tracks had to lead somewhere.

"Shepard, are you . . ." a female voice from behind him said.

He almost smiled. So Williams and Alenko were a little fervent—or maybe they were just worried—and had followed his orders explicitly. It made him wish that he had better news to give the two of them. He turned and found them regarding him with an expression that he couldn't quite place. His squad had returned, yes, with a few extra marines flanking them, but judging by how far away Ashley sounded at first, they hadn't moved at all. Nihlus' body was a few feet in front of him, but the soldiers were well across the platform, at least 25 feet away.

His smile vanished as he recognized the look for what it was: suspicion. He was still holding the Spectre's pistol, standing over his body in the middle of an empty spaceport.

"What exactly happened here, Commander?" Kaidan's tone was edgy and heightened.

Shepard's senses sharpened as he chose his words carefully. Even to him the explanation was unbelievable. "There was another turian. He's the one that shot Nihlus. I saw the whole thing."

"Another turian? On Eden Prime?" Kaidan said.

"Yeah, like Manuel said."

Kaidan snorted. "So your new theory is that we take the word of a medicated mental patient?"

Ashley's eyes flickered back and forth between Nihlus' corpse and his gun. If anything their body language had just gotten more tense as they had talked.

"What? No, come on guys, I didn't kill him." Shepard dropped the pistol and took a hasty step back away from the body. "The guy was just . . . "

Kaidan momentarily holstered his weapon to give the surrounding area an exaggerated perusal.

"There's nobody else out here, Shepard."

"No, I know that. He left. On that huge ship, you must have seen it."

"Y-Yeah we saw it," Ashley said.

"The turian left on the geth dreadnaught?" Kaidan said.

Shepard clenched his jaw. "Yes. I think so. I didn't actually see him board it."

There wasn't any reasoning with Kaidan it seemed. And the rest of them didn't exactly seemed convinced he was telling the truth. Shepard couldn't believe he was doing this, but he surreptitiously cycled through all of his exit strategies and found none of them satisfactory. He was outnumbered six to one. The tram car was gone, and the area was way too wide open. Crates were the only thing that provided any semblance of cover, and he knew they wouldn't last long.

"Ashley, come on, none of this makes sense. Why would I shoot him?" he said.

"You-you wanted to go ahead alone." Her voice was wavering heavily. "You disobeyed an order-"

"I _gave_ you an order!"

"Nihlus never actually said he had the beacon, Shepard!" She swallowed hard and clenched her fist. "And if he did, then where is it?"

"Did our mysterious turian friend take that too?" Kaidan said.

"I'm . . . not sure. The beacon wasn't here. I never saw it." This was not happening. It had to be a dream or some stretch of the imagination.

Ashley's voice softened. "Look, just come with us. I'm sure there's a reasonable explanation for all of this. We just have to sort it all out, okay?"

He seriously doubted there was any sorting out to be done that didn't involve him locked away in a subterranean prison for the rest of his life. He was about to tell them to go to hell and take his chances on an escape, but a low hum silenced him. It began building in volume as the sound drew closer. This wasn't the earsplitting drone of the geth dreadnaught or the whirring of any geth platforms. This was a ship.

He turned around and saw, as it crested over the top of the valley behind him, that it was actually a shuttle. Kodiak if his remedial knowledge of transports was correct—and it often wasn't—but this one was different. It was painted off-white, instead of Alliance blue, and there was something mounted on its roof that hadn't been there in any of the pictures he had seen.

The shuttle pulled to a stop behind him and turned perpendicular to the group, hovering roughly 20 feet off the ground. Kaidan started to say something, but never got the chance to finish as the plates on the shuttle's roof withdrew and it became readily apparent what the foreign device was. It was a _gun_ and a rather large one. Its fire peppered the other side of the spaceport and sent the marines diving for cover. Shepard stumbled backward and was glad that the deafening roar of the cannon drowned out his rather loud yelp of surprise. He tried to wave his hands to call the attacker off, but the marines return fire sent him scrambling behind a crate. Okay, he took it back, _this_ was a stretch.

Kodiak's weren't built for taking gunfire, he knew, but the squad was having a hard time getting any opportunities to retaliate over the incessant suppressing rounds. Shepard knew standard protocol would call for them to flank the shuttle, but just as he saw the marines try to move, the cannon's fire caught one of the dock's many containment cells. The explosion swelled enough to envelop several more barrels and the end result was a veritable inferno that sent everyone to the ground. The blast was far enough away that all he felt was a fierce residual wave of heat rush over his cheeks. The fire that covered the entire other side of the shipyard meant that, at least for now, he didn't have to worry about people shooting at him. The marines looked like they had retreated enough to avoid any permanent damage, or at least he hoped that was the case. Either way they surely wouldn't be giving him chase anytime soon.

The shuttle's fire ceased and the transport slowly lowered down to the ground, landing a few feet in front of him with a noisy bang. A loud hiss escaped the craft, a sign the door was opening, and Shepard braced himself for what was to come.

In this situation there weren't very many people Shepard would consider himself happy to see behind that door. The fact that it was _her_ would have dumbfounded him under normal circumstances, but right now it was more like his mind went completely blank. A friendly face was a very welcoming sight, her's particularly so. He didn't know whether to smile or faint—both seemed oddly appropriate—but before he could react at all, she had her gun trained on him.

"Get in."

* * *

><p><strong>2113 HRS, March 10, 2180<strong>

**La Grange Military Base, Newport, Rhode Island**

Shepard hated parties. The mind-numbing social niceties, the expensive food, the drabness, the fustiness, the general snobbery, it was all enough to make him wish for the Skyllian Blitz. It always felt like everything you said was being read off of a script and talking never felt like a conversation so much as an interview. Which is why he found himself exactly where he planned to spend the rest of his night: standing at the bar, casually sipping his beer.

At least he managed to avoid the dress code requirement, a fortunate benefit of knowing the guest of honor personally. Boots, jeans and a leather jacket suited him so much better than the full-dress uniforms the rest of these overeager marines were wearing.

"Shepard!" A friendly hand clapped his shoulder. "I didn't think you actually came to these things."

"Only the ones with open bars, Jacob."

Taylor was a nice guy, and one of the few real friends he had anymore. There was a symmetry to his thoughts turning toward eager marines followed by one showing up right next to him, but he pushed that away. Jacob was a crusader, which often made for the best—or worst if you asked the other races—type of Alliance soldier. Shepard had been something akin to that himself once, so he understood. But maybe some part of him did begrudge Jacob his naïveté: that way of looking at the word where everything was so simple, and you always knew the right course of action. Things certainly would be easier.

As usual, there was not a button left undone on the marine's uniform or a hair out of place on his head. Jacob liked to say that appearances were important, but Shepard often suspected that his friend just used that ideology as an excuse to lecture him about his typical disheveled look.

What exactly Jacob did for the Alliance still remained a mystery to him. Shepard knew he took a large number of assignments all over the galaxy, and that they never lasted for more than a few months at a time. It was all very clandestine, some kind of black ops, Shepard suspected, and it struck him that his lack of knowledge was probably the point of such a group.

Jacob grinned. "I'm not buying it. But as long as it gets you out of your room for more than an hour, you won't hear any complaining from me."

"Worried about me, Lieutenant?"

"If you're here to find yourself a lady friend though, please do me a favor and try to keep it down. I know we're only sharing that room at the barracks for another week but a man needs his sleep."

"The thing with the duck was hardly my fault."

Jacob smirked and leaned against the bar. "Yeah, yeah; I've heard the whole story before. And look, I'm not trying to discourage you from seeking some companionship. I know it's been a while."

"What exactly are you trying to say?" One of the unfortunate side effects of having close friends was that they always knew exactly what you didn't want to hear.

"I'm saying that you should have worn your dress blues to this thing." Jacob gestured down to his full regalia. "All you'd have to do is flash that giant star on your chest and you'd have an in with any woman you wanted."

Shepard shook his head. "That was four years ago, Jacob. I'm not sure I'm that guy anymore."

Jacob snorted. "Please, that ugly profile of yours hasn't changed since the day we met."

Shepard balled up his napkin and sent it flying toward his friend's face. Jacob's grin didn't falter as he tilted his head and watched it sail by harmlessly.

"Your marksmanship might have deteriorated though. How did you ever outshoot me in basic?" Jacob said.

Shepard reluctantly smiled and took a sip of his drink. Sometimes he regretted making friends with the impetuous marine during their time in boot camp. Jacob was a good person though, and someone you always wanted on your side, even if he could be a pain in the ass every now and then.

Jacob gave his shoulder a light punch. "Seriously, man, you're a goddamn hero. And if you ever let yourself interact with people, you wouldn't forget it so often."

"Is that what works for you?"

"Actually, yeah. I just got stopped by the 113th before I got here. People always want to hear stories."

Shepard took another sip of his drink. "Funny, nobody's been flagging me down."

"That's because people are scared of you."

Shepard shrugged. "Then I guess something's working."

His friend sighed and rubbed his forehead. "Well, I'm sure Anderson appreciates you overcoming your grouchiness to be here and congratulate him tonight."

Anderson. Shepard's relationship with the man stretched back almost as far as Jacob. Back then the captain had seen something in Shepard just out of training, and had defended him time and again when he'd done any number of stupid things that teenagers do. Since then they had tried to keep in touch, even working together on an assignment a time or two, whenever their busy schedules allowed. Anderson was actually the first person he spoke with after Elysium, but Shepard didn't want to think about that anymore tonight. He had already done enough moping.

He glanced up to find Jacob in a heated discussion with the bartender over which brandy was best suited for his choice of cocktail. Shepard shook his head and turned to survey the ballroom. From wall to wall, the place was absolutely packed. He had no idea how Jacob had even navigated through the crowd, much less saw him sulking at the bar. Ungainly waiters shuffled their overly large trays of hors d'oeuvres from group to group without any catastrophes, which, as far as he was concerned, took more skill than anything he'd done in a combat situation.

From the walls, to the drapes that covered the huge bay windows at the east end of the room, to the trimming that framed the dark wood floors, to the ridiculous tuxedo jackets all of the wait staff wore, it was all a weeping shade of ivory. Shepard sighed. Maybe he had overestimated just how much of this he could stomach. If he found Anderson now and said a few words to him, he might be able to escape without too much haranguing.

And then he saw her.

Her dark hair was elaborately coiffed, falling in loose curls over the straps of her equally dark dress. Her gown wasn't flowing like so many of the other women here, but there was only so much he could see of her profile through the mess of the crowd. She turned to scan the room as she moved and soon he was met with a pair of deep, blue eyes. He took a step back, surprised by their intensity and braced himself on the bar when he stumbled slightly. He cursed under his breath and dropped his gaze to the floor, eyeing her slender calves and sharp heels. Not only had he been caught staring, but he managed to embarrass himself in the process. Slowly he dared to look back up as she waded through the throng of people, fading in and out of view. But just like that, she vanished as quickly as she came.

"Taylor." His throat was dry and he pawed at Jacob without breaking his search. "Taylor, I think I just saw La Belle Dame."

"You saw a what?"

He waved off his friend. "Old English poem." She couldn't just be gone. "Uh, a supernaturally beautiful woman."

Jacob snorted. "Oh yeah? What was that like?"

Shepard squinted and craned his head. "Like . . . witnessing some extraordinary astrological event that you know you're never gonna see again."

It was no use. A glimpse, that's all he had gotten before the crowd swallowed her up again. But it had been enough. Enough to make his night and ruin it at the same time.

He turned to his friend next to him and found Jacob's face somewhere between amusement and genuine curiosity.

"Okay, well what did the guy in the poem do?"

The answer made him want to groan. Only Jacob could ask such an inane question and have it carry relevance. "It's a dream." Shepard sighed. "At the end, she's a dream."

Jacob raised an eyebrow. "Well, don't feel too sorry for yourself. Maybe later on we can find you a valkyrie instead."

"That's not funny."

His friend merely smiled and went back to slurping his drink. Shepard frowned. There had to be at least 200 people packed into this tiny auditorium, any semblance of a fire code being dutifully ignored. He could spend the rest of the night poking and prodding his way through the innumerable small groups of people and never even come close to seeing his mystery woman. His frown deepened as he considered the possibility that she might not even be here much longer. Maybe she was a foreign dignitary who was here to shake a few hands and say a few words before making a prompt exit. Or perhaps she was like him, trying to enjoy one last party before shipping out to her next dreary assignment. He shook his head and abandoned that line of thought. This woman was _not_ a soldier.

Jacob looked his way and the scowl on his own face must've made the marine feel obligated to say something.

"Come on man, just go and look for her. She's here. You're here. It's not like she's hiding from you, because she doesn't even know you exist."

Shepard rolled his eyes. "Thanks for the pep talk."

Jacob made a sweeping gesture. "Get out there. Who knows, you might even screw up and end up enjoying yourself."

Jacob was right, he knew. Still, Shepard couldn't fight the feeling in the back of his mind that the only thing worse than never meeting her tonight might actually be finding her after all.

Behind Jacob the crowd parted, and Shepard realized that he wouldn't have to look for her at all. Because she was right _there_, and she was heading toward him, all lithe curves, grace and elegance. She was smiling now too, but it was more of a predatory smile, like the kind he had worn when he had finally found this bar.

Jacob must've noticed the stunned stupid look on his face because now he was turning and caught sight of her too.

"Oh, shit."

His friend's voice was enough to bring him back to reality and break the hold she had on him. He glanced at Jacob and found his mouth agape, looking like he had just seen a ghost.

"What?" he said. When Jacob didn't respond it only made him more worried. She was closer now, and would be in range of their voices any second.

"What is it?"

"Uh." Jacob swallowed heavily. "Just give her the benefit of the doubt, okay? She doesn't mean half the things she says."

What that could possibly mean, Shepard didn't know. But he didn't miss the subtle implication. They knew each other. He didn't have time to analyze that discovery though, because she was here, and God, she was even more beautiful up close.

"Ah, Jacob." She had an accent. Of course she did. "Right where I left you." Her eyes moved over to him.

He faltered under her stare and glanced over to find Jacob in no condition to respond to her. He wasn't gaping anymore, but he still had that glazed over look on his face. Shepard wanted to smack him. She _was_ a little intimidating, but there was no defense for Jacob's behavior if he was actually familiar with her. He decided that if he didn't say something they would continue to stand there in silence, perhaps until the next Blasto movie came out. Also he didn't know how much longer he could take her looking at him like that.

"At a bar or a boring party?" he said.

Her eyes flickered and her mouth twitched upward slightly. A small victory, but he'd take what he could get when it came to this woman.

"Aren't you going to introduce me to your, uh, friend?" he said. A beat passed and still nothing, so he gave Jacob a slight nudge, hoping he would take the hint.

"Right, um, Shepard, this is-"

"Remy," she said, extending her hand. Shepard missed the quizzical expression Jacob shot her at that.

"Nice to meet you," he said reaching his hand out and shaking hers. "John Sh-"

"Yes, I know who you are, Commander," she said plainly, and he wasn't sure whether that was a good thing or not.

"You, um, need anything? A drink, maybe?" he said.

She shot him a perfunctory smile. "I'm fine. Thanks. I won't be staying long."

"How did you even make it through security?" Jacob said.

"My partner has me sneak into places all the time," she deadpanned.

His friend paled a little at her words. Jacob was acting strange, and it went beyond any "this beautiful woman turns me into a buffoon" behavior. Besides, that was his excuse.

"What uh . . ." Jacob cleared his throat. "What are you doing here, Rem?"

Why she would shoot him an icy glare at that, he had no idea. Truth be told, he was still a little uncomfortable himself, although Jacob actually talking now helped things a little bit. He didn't know exactly what their relationship was, but one thing he was sure of was that women that looked like _that_ didn't just show up on Alliance military bases.

"I needed to give you something," she said, producing a small envelope from . . . actually he didn't know where. There absolutely were not any pockets in that dress she was wearing.

Jacob's look was skeptical. "You came all the way out here to sneak in and give me a note?"

Shepard smiled a little but she rolled her eyes heavily. "Look, can we just talk for a few minutes? In private?" she said.

Her tone did not allow for any argument or resistance, and Shepard suddenly felt like a third wheel. Even Jacob squirmed a little.

"Yeah, I guess so. Your timing isn't exactly the be-"

"Taylor!"

Shepard looked over his shoulder to find the source of the voice. It was one of the fleet admirals he didn't recognize—Lindholm, maybe—and she was motioning Jacob toward her group.

"Taylor, get over here. I've got some people I want you to meet."

Jacob paused for an instant, as if deciding which person's wrath he'd be more okay with incurring. In the end though he didn't have a choice, and they all knew it. After finishing his drink in one gulp and shooting his companion a sympathetic look, he made for the group of officials across the room.

Nonplussed, she watched Jacob fade and then finally disappear into the crowd. It was only when she turned to him and her glare softened that he was simultaneously grateful and annoyed that Jacob had left him there to play host.

"I believe you said something about a drink?" she said.

Words wouldn't come, so Shepard merely nodded and tried to sit down as casually as possible. So gorgeous women made him a little anxious, that wasn't incredibly unusual. He'd never had one manage to break his brain before though, and it was starting to make him feel foolish. He did not like that feeling.

He was surprised when she stepped forward and slipped onto the barstool next to him. As she did so, he noticed that there was no wasted movement. Whether she was floating through a crowd, frowning when Jacob was called away, or sitting down curiously close to him, there was a cold precision to everything she did. It looked exhausting, but she was probably used to it, so he left it alone.

While she was busy ordering a fruity cocktail from the bartender, he tried to cook up some decent ways to keep the conversation as far away from him as possible.

"So, uh, you and Jacob are colleagues." It was a flimsy attempt at disguising the question but he figured it was better than outright asking.

She lifted a shoulder. "You could say that."

"From what he tells me, which is nothing, it sounds like he's a superhero." Shepard frowned, realizing how that sounded. "Not that you're his sidekick or anything. I just mean, you know, saving innocents, upholding the ideals of humanity and the Alliance or whatever." He managed to make it all of thirty seconds before sounding like a moron.

"The Alliance has ideals?"

That's what she got out of that? "Um, yeah. Well, so I've been told," he said.

She huffed a laugh but didn't otherwise respond.

Shepard had barely even noticed how she'd redirected him. Damn, she was good. "So if you and Jacob work together, what does that make you?"

"Very patient," she said, receiving her drink. She momentarily raised it in his direction before taking a sip.

So she wasn't a talker, or at least, not about herself. He probably could've guessed that. Well that meant swallowing any questions he had about the exact nature of her relationship with Jacob.

"So why is the Hero of Elysium resigning himself to an office?" she said, putting down her glass and facing him.

Normally he would have bemoaned his plan failing so fast, but he was so dumbfounded by her question it barely registered. He didn't even mind her using that awful title.

"Now how did you know about that?"

She momentarily looked in the direction Jacob had vanished. "Girls talk."

Taylor had mentioned it to _her_? Jacob knew better than to tell anyone something personal like that unless his friend absolutely trusted them. Suddenly the pang of nausea he was experiencing had nothing to do with how she was affecting him.

"How come Jacob has never mentioned you?" he said.

She looked away. "It's been a while since we've seen each other. Honestly, I'm actually a little surprised he even recognized me."

"You're not exactly the type of person someone forgets," he mumbled.

"Oh?" She winked at him. "Am I supposed to take that as a compliment?"

His ears burned. She must have had some kind of superhero hearing to pick that up. But he wasn't going to let her win.

"You can."

She laughed, and it was a pleasant sound. He wished she would do it more often.

"So do you break into Alliance events for fun, or did you just happen to be in the neighborhood?" he said.

"Mmm, something like that." She swirled her drink with her straw and the smile slowly dropped off of her face.

The dimness of the bar was a sharp contrast to the harsh light that illuminated the rest of the ballroom. And under the fuzzy light, he felt, for a moment, insane. Meeting up with an enigmatic woman in the back of a crowded room full of very powerful people carried a lot more nefarious connotations than he cared to think about. He never did things like this. Before tonight, he never _wanted_ to do things like this. He looked back to her eyes to find her look scrutinizing. She was studying him. Maybe she couldn't figure him out any more than he could her, but, like him, maybe she wanted to. The thought sent a little thrill through him.

"You're avoiding," she said. "What's the story behind your new job?"

"Oh. Um, I don't know. I kind of needed a change. Just trying to reintegrate myself into the world, you know?" It was a lame answer, but he hoped it would be enough.

She raised an eyebrow. "Trying to save it wasn't noble enough?"

"That's . . . not exactly how I'd put it."

"Well how would you describe it?"

Fine, he decided to give in. "Exhausting."

Her smile made him glad he did. "Fighting for what you believe in usually is."

The topic was a sore point, so he wasn't surprised when his patience slipped a little. "It's not like I'm just rolling over, okay. I don't _need_ to be a damn archetype for the rest of my life. What has that gotten me so far? You know, most people have dreams. Ones that involve things other than parades and speeches and year-long colonial assignments." He sighed; his defenses were thinning under her scrutiny. "Is a quiet life too much to ask for? It's normal to want to be normal."

Her tone was understanding. "Until you start romanticizing it. Then you sound just as messed up as the rest of us."

He looked back down to his drink. "I'm not a hero."

She reached out and touched his shoulder and he almost jumped. It was the first real human contact he'd had in a long time, Jacob being annoying notwithstanding.

"Me neither," she said.

He looked at her and smiled when she awkwardly removed her hand, folding it in her lap. It felt like there were still faint traces of warmth left over from where she had laid her fingers, but he could've been imagining things. She was surprisingly easy to talk to, even if he felt like he hadn't learned anything since she sat down next to him.

"But." She shrugged. "You made a decision. You'll do whatever you think is right for you."

"That's it? That's your advice?"

"I don't have all the answers, Shepard. And I don't lie awake at night miserable because of it."

He looked at her. "You're disappointed."

She had a faint smile on her face. At the very least he knew she was curious. "Do you _want_ me to tell you what to do?"

Shepard flinched. He wouldn't mind, actually, and it was a rather comforting yet disconcerting thought. He needed to get control of this conversation.

"I want you to stop pretending like you don't care," he said.

Her eyebrows went up at that and she turned to fully face him.

"Look, John." It was the first time she'd used his name all night. "From all the reports out there, it's a miracle you survived that crash."

His usual defenses that surfaced whenever somebody brought this up came up before he could stop them. "Do you really need to deconstruct this?"

She smirked and didn't miss a beat. "But everything that happened before that was not, it was _you_."

"I guess you do," he muttered, but leaned forward a little. This was the only thing she had spoken passionately about all night, and she had his rapt attention.

"So, if you believe the next miracle won't save you, then do it. Who knows, it might be nice to spend weeks at a time without facing random gunfire for a change. If you want to keep being the soldier that you are-" She held up a hand to silence his protest. "Then stop acting like you've done everything wrong in your life. But don't think for a second that running away makes you a lesser person. Sometimes, it's our only option."

Our only option. She-

"Shepard! Glad to see all it took to get you to one of these things was your greatest commanding officer being celebrated."

Shepard turned around and smiled at the sight of Anderson striding towards him. "Oh really? I didn't know Swenson got promoted as well, Captain."

Anderson smirked. "Easy with that. The official ceremony isn't until tomorrow."

"Shouldn't you be out there in the crowd, mingling with the proletariats?"

"Lord knows I'll be doing plenty of that tonight," Anderson said. "And for the rest of my life," he added, almost as an afterthought. "Plus, you looked like you could use some company."

Shepard belatedly remembered that he wasn't alone. "No, I-"

He turned to where his partner had been previously, but all he found was an empty seat. On top of it rested the small, thin envelope she had been waving at Jacob earlier this evening. Just like that, she was gone, and so was his belief in miracles.

* * *

><p><strong>1912 HRS, May 10, 2183<strong>

**Spaceport 13-A, Eden Prime**

"R-Remy?"

She didn't respond, instead using her gun to make an impassive gesture in the direction of the shuttle. Shepard felt himself taking several shaky steps toward the craft, but this whole thing was beginning to feel like an out-of-body experience.

The transport was roomier than it looked from the surface. The seats of the cabin were plush and he could actually stand up straight without bumping his head on the ceiling. The interior was just as black and white as the outside, with still no trace of an Alliance logo or their trademark blue. The door slamming shut interrupted his mental babbling.

She faced him. At least there wasn't a gun pointed at him anymore, but she was still brandishing the thing like she thought she might have to use it. He didn't know how much longer he could do this alone. It didn't make any sense to him, but it was much more important that she believed him over Kaidan, Ashley, or any of those alliance marines they left behind.

"I-I didn't kill Nihlus." He tried to make it sound more like a confident declaration and less like a plea for help.

"I know." She blew out a breath, used her pistol to brush some hair behind her ear, and then let the gun fall to the side.

"Thank God, someone who—wait what do you mean you _know_?"

She sighed. "Come on, let's go."

And she, as gracefully as she did everything else, turned and slipped into the pilot's seat.

Shepard clambered into the seat next to her, never breaking his incredulous stare. "Go? Go where? How are you even here?" he said, his voice wavering.

She eyed him, hopefully picking up on his distress. "You're not going to let this go, are you?"

He shook his head wildly. It was easier than trying to talk. At this point he was pretty sure that this all wasn't a giant hallucination, but that's about as far as he was willing to go.

"Jacob was on this planet when the attack hit. Don't ask me why," she said, silencing him as he tried to form the question. "He was insistent you were looked after, so here I am."

Very noble, Jacob. Send your partner into certain death in your place to save someone she'd met once. His chest swelled a little with pride; at least he was better than that.

"Wait a second. Jacob was here? With you?"

The good feeling was gone, replaced by a twist in his gut after connecting those dots. She spared him a passing glance, but didn't answer him. He didn't expect one. Three years and they were still together.

"Is he safe?" he said.

"Yes he is, which is more than I can say for us right now," she said.

"I—Ah!" The sudden roar of the shuttle firing up caused him to momentarily fly a few inches out of his seat. It wasn't very manly, but impressing the beautiful woman next to him was currently not very high on his list of priorities. Every nerve felt like it was on fire, and his heart was threatening to leap out of his chest.

This was all starting to overload his brain. From the betrayal, to the firefight, to _escaping_ from the Alliance, to seeing the woman he'd secretly dreamt about at least once a week for the past three years, to finding out that Jacob was the only reason she was here. He'd never had a nervous breakdown before, but this is what he imagined the beginning stages of one must feel like.

"Hey!" With the hand that wasn't furiously entering commands into the shuttle's computer she reached out and cupped his face.

He went completely still, but was sure that she could feel his heart pounding.

"Stay with me, alright?" she said. "This is going to be twice as hard if you fall to pieces."

A meek nod was all he could offer as she guided the shuttle into the air. When she had turned to him, he didn't miss the faint blue glow that disseminated off of her body in wisps. All this time and he'd never known she was a biotic. His head was almost ready to start spinning again. Too much information. It was too much. He needed to focus.

"The platform." His voice was hoarse.

"What?"

"I saw a cargo train infrastructure back at the spaceport," he said. "If the beacon wasn't there, it would have to be at the other platform." There was a distinct possibility that the mysterious turian had taken it long before he got there, but he didn't want to think about that.

"And what makes you think it's still there?"

"We-we have to try."

"Why?" She looked at him and her tone softened. "Shepard, you can't go back. Without the resources to clear your name it's suicide."

"The beacon is the only lead I've got. It's my only hope."

"No, it's not. Hope is what's making you miserable." She stopped the craft in midair and looked at him. "This is what we do: We run. We get stronger. And someday, we get even."

The bitterness in her voice actually made him a little sad. "How is that the better option?"

"Because I'm only looking to figure out a plan," she said, "not your life."

He didn't have an answer to that. It was true that she was now in this just as much as he was. Thinking about that reality still overwhelmed him, but he felt ashamed for forgetting it in the heat of the moment.

"I'm not quite sure you understand the meaning of being _on the run_," she said. "There will be people chasing us now, people that want to kill us. We have a clear path off the planet right now, but I can't promise we'll ever make it out of that platform alive."

Her last sentence stung of manipulation, even if she was just being honest.

It was easy for her to sit here and tell him to abandon his life as he knew it. She didn't know what it was like to be a fugitive, to spend your entire life looking over your shoulder. To never be able to go home or even talk to your family ever again. He didn't either, but he was in no hurry to find out.

She continued, sounding more impatient with every word. "And what if we do find the thing? Are you going to go back to the Alliance and parade around with it? That won't grant you absolution."

Shepard kept quiet, but knew that only proved she was on the right track. She rubbed her forehead.

"You have a choice," she said, her voice thick. "Maybe the last real one you'll ever have."

She looked at him with such intensity, it took everything in him not to shy away, even as sweat beaded on his forehead. This was it. Either he would be an escapee or a captive, and neither sounded like lives he wanted to live. But if there was any question about where he wanted to be in this world, by the side of this incomparable woman didn't sound so bad.

So he did it. He did, for some outrageous reason, what he'd felt inclined to do since he first laid eyes on her in the middle of a crowded room. He trusted her.

"Okay." He swallowed heavily. "Whatever happens, I'm with you."

She nodded and turned back to the controls. "Then let's go find your beacon."

* * *

><p>The remainder of the ride to the platform had been spent in companionable silence, aside from a quick adjustment to patch him into her private comm channel. As the beaches and jungles passed below them, her focus on the task at hand remained sharp. He knew this because he'd been sneaking furtive glances in her direction ever since they'd left, and she'd yet to notice.<p>

He had to be going insane. That's the only reasonable explanation for what had just happened. If this last-ditch effort to procure some kind of evidence of his innocence proved fruitless, his life was entirely in her hands—somebody he knew absolutely nothing about. It was possible Remy wasn't really looking after him for his friend. All of this certainly seemed to go above and beyond what someone would do as a favor. Maybe she was actually an Alliance intelligence agent, someone else assigned to watch over him on this mission, and he'd be taken into custody the moment they got off-planet. It would explain how she effortlessly popped in and out of his life without ever truly leaving. Not to mention her connection with Jacob.

Or maybe this was all about Nihlus (or the beacon, the result was much the same) and he was just a pawn in a larger scheme. Shepard gulped. If that were the case, she probably wouldn't have much use for him once she had gotten what she wanted. The problem was that he just didn't _know _anything, and that left his mind free to conjure up the worst possibilities. She had saved his life, yes, and now he was dependent on her for survival. This woman, whose extent of interaction with him before this day had consisted of being gawked at across a packed dining hall, sharing one very lousy drink, and being subjected to his feeble attempt at flirting later on in front of the barracks, now controlled his fate.

The shuttle slowed and she gave an imperceptible nod that he took as confirmation that they had reached the destination. The information snapped him out of his trance, and he was grateful that she hadn't seemed to notice, or at least that she hadn't said anything if she did. He relaxed his hands, which he realized had been holding a death grip on the armrests of the co-pilot's chair, and tried to scan the surrounding area for any sign of the Prothean artifact.

By the time they touched down, he had come up empty and resigned himself to hope for better luck in the coming minutes. In fact, Shepard noted that the entire area of the spaceport was devoid of any activity, geth or otherwise. It was a little unsettling, and he was sure she picked up on it too.

She unstrapped herself from the seat and briefly looked at him before leaving the cockpit. He took a deep breath, and, when that didn't seem to help, rose and followed her. In the cabin she had wrenched the door open and was wordlessly checking over her gun.

"Um, Remy."

She didn't look up from her scrutinizing.

"Hello?" he tried, a little louder. That got her attention. "I don't have a weapon. I, uh, kinda lost my last one when I thought you were going to shoot me."

She almost looked offended. "You thought I was going to kill you?"

"No!" he said a little too quickly. "I don't know . . . you are kind of intimidating."

"And you needed to tell me that?"

"Look, I already told you that I'm going to trust you. I never said I knew why."

She seemed a little amused by that and he, for the life of him, couldn't imagine why. She popped in the metal ammunition block and slapped the pistol against her palm to lock it in place. "Here," she said and tossed it to him.

The gun felt cumbersome in his hands, a heavy reminder that from here on out everything would be different now.

"You really think we can do this?" he said.

"I've thwarted assassinations, broken up slaver rings, taken over pirate ships, and toppled regimes. Most of it by myself. Think of what I can do with a pencil pusher at my side," she said, and smirked at him.

It was impressive, but it didn't sound like bragging. Someone like her didn't have a fragile ego of course, nor would she care about impressing him. If that was her best attempt at reassuring him, she needed to work on her people skills.

Remy grabbed a pistol of her own and faced him when they reached the door. "I'll set up a perimeter. I know the place looked deserted, but use the comms if you see _anything_."

He gave a weak nod, but didn't move, not even when she stepped out and turned to face him again.

"Still with me?" she said.

"Y-Yeah."

It was hard not to think about the impending consequences of what they were about to do. He turned and found that although he had seen the station from above, he had been much more focused on locating the beacon than actually examining the area itself. The platform was much more intricate and developed than the previous spaceport bay. Multiple levels framed the alcove where the train would dock, with interconnected ramps and walkways that bridged overhead to allow for travel between the two upper sections.

It made perfect sense that this was the place the beacon would be stored, if it was actually still here at all. This structure was huge, and it occurred to him that perhaps Remy was right, that this wasn't a good idea. If they didn't get the beacon and get out of here fast enough, the Alliance might catch up, or worse, the geth mothership might return.

"What, uh, what do you think I should-" Shepard shifted back toward his companion only to find empty space. He grumbled silently. So she had a habit of doing that. At least this time he knew she was coming back.

He set out, but not before accessing his omni-tool and activating the comm channel. "You know, you have a very disturbing tendency of vanishing into thin air. It was bad enough the last time."

"Was it?" she said. "Not too interested in leaving me anymore then?"

At no point was he ever really convinced leaving her was the best idea, no matter how much he thought he could convince the Alliance, but he wasn't going to tell her that.

"I don't know," he said, shoving aside some boxes to look down a blocked hallway. "You're not so bad up close."

"So I've been told," she said, and he flinched. That was not what he meant, and he was sure she knew it.

Shepard crossed a walkway and moved deeper into the station. The winter breeze had stopped now, leaving everything eerily quiet aside from the occasional creaks and groans of the structure. The platform ended here and he saw the tracks stretch into the distance, held up by thick black cables he could barely make out in the darkness. There was a side area off of the main platform, and unless he wanted to double back, it was the only direction left for him to go. The speaker in his helmet crackled to life.

"Remember, Shepard. At the first sign of trouble you say something."

He looked around theatrically. "I don't even know where you are. What exactly do you plan on doing if I do find something?"

"Oh, I don't know," she said, exhaling. "I'm sure it will involve you hiding behind a crate and me playing the hero."

"Very funny," he said and hoped that she was joking.

The path led to a narrow alley, with a small raised walkway being the only way forward. It gave way to an open ramp area that he assumed served as cargo storage for this platform. From his position, the raised station allowed for a clear view of the surrounding land. In the distance he saw the next cargo station, and then the remains of the train. The track had been torn apart, a large gap stretching at least 50 feet long was missing, and the train itself lay in a crumpled burning heap. Smoke billowed both from the wreckage and some other disaster in the distance that he couldn't quite make out in the dark. It was, however, impossible to miss the large field of scorched terrain right over the platform's railing. The only thing he had seen on this planet that was capable of that kind of destruction was the monstrous geth flagship.

"I've found the train," he said. "It's not an option. If we get stranded away from the shuttle, we have no way out of here." He didn't mean to make it sound so grim, but it was actually rather in line with how he was feeling. After all, there was no sign of the beacon yet.

"I didn't rescue you just to die on this bloody farm world. We're going to get out of here."

"It's that simple?"

"I've done everything I've set out to do, Shepard. This is no different."

For her, it was just another self-assured declaration of superiority. A way for her to define herself and her world view, while hopefully calming his nerves.

But it's also what you say right before you die, and he couldn't imagine an admission more depressing.

Shepard traversed down the ramp and rounded the corner to finally enter the wide expanse of the terrace below. There were more of those horrific spikes, and impaled atop them were the same zombie-like creatures he had battled earlier. Immediately he turned a shade of green and was glad his friend—or partner, or whatever she was—wasn't there to see it. He could at least take solace in the fact that with no geth in the area, these didn't seem to be alive, or activated, or whatever made them want to kill him.

"Shepard, we have a problem," she said, and there was a touch of franticness in her voice that he had never heard before. "You need to get back to the shuttle now. I found some demolition charges in an alcove."

"What?"

"I can't disarm them and they're triggered to blow in minutes. The geth must have set them up before they left. This whole colony is wired to explode," she said, but he was barely listening anymore, because it was _there_.

He blamed his foolish terror at the sight of the spikes for missing it when he first entered this part of the station. Situated against the railing and standing tall, was the Prothean artifact that had upended so much of his life in the past six hours.

"Shepard, did you hear me?! I said we need to get out of-" Her voice faded to buzzing in his ears.

Shepard knew it was important—bombs were dangerous obviously—but he was entranced by this artifact. He was closer and it was glowing now, a light, wispy shade of green. Just a few more steps and he could finally put his hands on what would hopefully be the instrument of his salvation.

The beacon's glow intensified and suddenly he felt himself being _pulled_ toward it. It freaked him out enough to break his stupor, but as much as he tried to claw himself away, the artifact was too strong. He was so close now that he finally could reach out and touch it, if only to try and use it to push himself away. He did that, and then the world itself ceased to exist.

He felt weightless, like he was floating, and a million images flashed in front of his mind. A giant machine. Robotic infrastructure. Millions of wires and cords, all tangled together. A beacon, not unlike the one in front of him. Claws. A space station. It all blurred together as the images seared into his thoughts. He thought he felt a soft hand on his wrist, and he wanted to move to take it in his own, anything to break the spasms. But as hard as he tried, the blackness was stronger, and it eventually dragged him further and further down until there was nothing.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Lengthy start, but I really wanted to get through all of the boring stuff that we already know happens on Eden Prime anyway. Timelines are a little different than when these characters first met in the game, and as a result they act a little different. Shepard hasn't defeated Saren yet, and Miranda hasn't seen the galaxy almost torn apart by Sovereign. I really wanted to make this universe different than just a simple re-telling of the games. This will very loosely follow the plot of the series, but I've changed quite a bit (as you can see). Most of what's going on Shepard has no clue about, but it'll all come out in time. Thanks for staying with me so far.  
><strong>


	2. Life in a Graveyard

**Life in a Graveyard**

**0124 HRS, March 11, 2180**

**La Grange Military Base, Newport, Rhode Island**

The base was dark. Darker and more abandoned than Shepard expected a military headquarters to be and he was grateful for the month that he had already spent living here that allowed him to commit the area to memory.

Shepard remembered now why he so often opted out of these stupid things. Because no matter how entertaining the night had been so far—and he was _not_ going to admit to actually having fun tonight—they always ended the same: shuffling back to his room, alone, wondering why he bothered to leave it in the first place.

His feet hurt, and right now more than anything he wanted the comforting smell of clean sheets and a bed that, for the next week at least, he could call his own. The frigid breeze nipped at his neck and Shepard flipped up his collar, pulling his jacket tighter around himself. If this was supposed to be spring, he remained unconvinced.

The street lamps that guided his way down this narrow road that (hopefully) led to his barracks were spaced way too far apart to be of any practical use. The faded, silvery lights reminded him of a hospital and, as he stepped in and out of the flickering glow, Shepard felt much like he must look: in-between light and darkness, in-between knowing what he wanted and actually having it, in-between being a hero and a coward, in-between jobs, in-between happiness and misery.

Shepard strode onward, slightly drowsy, watching the wet asphalt of the street flash by three feet at a time.

When he rounded a corner and the barracks came into view, the first thing he noticed was that the door was ajar. It was certainly strange, but not altogether unreasonable, considering the amount of alcohol consumed tonight. Most of the men in his building had been at the party after all, and Shepard had somehow ended up being one of the last to leave. A moment later he understood exactly why the door was open when a slender form slipped through and shut it behind her. He was then met with long, black hair and a very familiar face; it was one that he suspected he wouldn't ever forget.

The area was open, and he couldn't have been more than 20 feet away, so even if he felt like hiding, it was impossible. He wasn't stalking her after all, but he wouldn't blame her for thinking otherwise. Something akin to curiosity flickered across her face when she saw him, but only for a moment before it was gone.

It was a hallmark of his stunning inexperience when it came to relationships that some small part of him had secretly been hoping for this scenario. One in which she had decided to come back to him, albeit in the fantasy she probably looked a little happier to see him. Now she was perfectly composed, but there was something restrained in her manner, though he couldn't quite put his finger on it.

Though it was far too late and she had no doubt been through a lot today, somehow even with her hair let down and without any jewelry she still managed to give the impression of being immaculately turned out. He absentmindedly wondered if she still smelled of mint and gardenias, or if he might get close enough to find out.

For the moment, he was too embarrassed to look at her any longer, so, as he approached, he tried to focus on any other point he could find: the rusty hinges of the metal door, the broken window next to it that was supposed to have been fixed yesterday, the rose bush that he had stepped in one too many times. And before too long, he _had_ to face her because she was standing right in front of the doorway.

"Bet you're not happy to run into me again," he said. It was supposed to be something resembling an icebreaker, but when she didn't reciprocate his nervous laughter it turned into more of an awkward truth.

She eventually cracked a small smile, hopefully not at his patheticness. "Oh, I don't know," she said, pink-cheeked from the cold. "I can't seem to get rid of you. I might as well accept it."

Why did it sound so smooth when she said it?

"You didn't strike me as a big believer in fate," he said.

"I'm not." She leaned in close, but hopefully not close enough to hear his breath catch, and whispered it like a secret. "If fate has me running into you at the end of every empty hallway, I think it sold us both short."

With how transfixed he was on the way their eyes locked, he could barely process what she was saying. God, she _did_ smell just as good as he remembered, maybe even better now that the cold air had dulled some of the artificialness. Her hair blew lightly in the breeze and those silver-blue eyes were brighter than any light he had passed on his way here. His omni-tool beeped and Shepard jumped, blindly fumbling with his wrist, thankful only that he had at least been given a small relief from the tension of the moment.

"In-in general or in this specific instance? Because right now I have no complaints," he said, happy to have any thread of the conversation to grab on to.

He composed himself, but shoved his hands in his pockets and looked away when she still stood, blinking at him curiously. It wasn't supposed to sound like a line, but now he didn't have much of a choice. What he really wanted, he didn't dare articulate, at least not yet.

"And you shouldn't either," he said. "It could've been someone entirely different behind that door. Someone much more dangerous."

Her brows came together. She probably didn't know him well enough to know when he was joking, but he understood enough about her to know the sentiment was ridiculous.

"And much less handsome," he added.

She rolled her eyes and shook her head. "You must be truly desperate to result to using threats on my life to flirt."

"Well, maybe," he said, embarrassed, but meaning it. "To be fair, you left so quickly at the bar I didn't get a chance to say anything."

"That's because I came here for a conference, not a quickie."

"Looks like you stayed long enough to do both," he said before he could stop the words. Her nostrils flared and he immediately wanted to slap himself.

"No, no, no, that's not what I meant." This conversation got worse every time he opened his mouth. "I'm just saying, you're still here, and so am I and we could've . . . well not _that_. Um, not necessarily, at least. I just meant you didn't have to go so early . . ." He sighed. "Look, I'm sorry. I'm a little drunk, and more than a little nervous."

He had realized much earlier that this woman wasn't a soldier, but she was _something_. And as her face adopted a taciturn expression, he could feel that other person taking over. Some kind of cold, distancing mechanism.

"I mean, you are here at the barracks. For all I know you could've been here looking-" he stopped and was sure the redness of his cheeks had nothing to do with the weather. If it were at all possible, he would've resigned himself to not speaking for the rest of the conversation.

"Looking for you?" she said, ignoring his clumsy apology.

Later he would reflect on her anger and be mildly disturbed by it. Only two things you snap at—things that are wildly false and things that are entirely true.

"No," he offered meekly. "I was going to say, um, looking for me."

She laughed what he imagined to be her real laugh. It was soft and almost mirthless, very different from the honeyed, modulated one she used earlier when she first spoke to Jacob. "You are incredibly annoying, you know that?"

He was still nervous, so he babbled. "You sound like every girl I've ever dated." He paused briefly, and then the rest of the words tumbled out of his mouth all at once. No way was he giving her a chance to respond to that. "Not that I can see any reason behind it. Why you feel that way that is, not the sounding like-uh, I just mean I think I'm pretty harmless. Most of the time."

"Yes, I know," she said, pushing some hair out of her eyes. "I suspect that has a lot to do with it."

It took him a second to understand what she meant and under normal circumstances her way of making him feel stupid probably would've been slightly offensive.

"So why are you . . .?"

She raised an eyebrow when he didn't continue. "There are other people that live here besides you, Shepard."

Oh. _Oh_. Her answer surprised him, though maybe it shouldn't have. She had come here for Jacob, after all. Maybe his earlier slip-up had been much closer to the truth than he realized. Shepard suddenly felt very ashamed of himself. For listening to Jacob, for actually enjoying himself, for giving her the power to upset him. Aggravation came fast however, and it trumped the humiliation and at least allowed him to say something.

"So that's it?"

A slight shrug that told him she was treating this with the same nonchalance that she had conducted herself with all evening.

"Now that I've pried Jacob away and gotten what I wanted, I can leave," she said, as if it explained everything.

He felt at the very least somewhat betrayed. Opening up to people wasn't something he did very often and she had practically tricked him into it. The only thing he couldn't figure out was why.

"So why aren't you?" The edge in his voice seemed to catch her off-guard, and he used the opportunity to press her further. "Why even have that drink?"

He almost added _Because you're sleeping with my friend, and all I do is get on your nerves_ which was the only obvious truth. But he wanted to hear her answer, so he bit his tongue and instead fixed her with the hardest glare he could muster for someone he'd been looking at with radiant, admiring affection all night.

She looked away. "Shepard, can I ask you a question?"

He frowned at her deflection and felt himself deflate, somehow managing to feel even more foolish than he had minutes before. He had no right to be upset with her, and no real reason to make her feel uncomfortable. If anything he was more angry with himself for letting her get to him that much. She never owed him anything. It occurred to him that this might be the last time he would ever see her, and he didn't want anger to be the final feeling he experienced.

She tilted her head. "According to Jacob, you actively avoid these smarmy get-togethers. You despise them. What were _you_ doing there?"

Her tone was genuinely contemplative—not angry, not sarcastic. "B-Because," he sputtered, taken aback. "I don't know. Anderson is my friend. I had to go."

He almost left it at that, but the way she was looking at him made him want to keep going. This was harder to answer than he thought. "I might think they're a waste of time, but . . . sacrificing to do something good for someone you care about . . . isn't that all relationships are?"

She leaned in close again, closer than before, and for one heart-stopping moment he thought she might kiss him. Her voice was soft, barely audible over the blood pounding in his head and the whistle of the breeze.

"That's why I stayed."

And then she was gone. Shepard was left hanging in the evaporating tension for a few seconds to recover before he whipped around and reoriented himself to her retreating form. As much of a disaster as that conversation had been, it did leave him with a surreal, warm feeling. He stood there, watching her leave, for a few moments longer than was probably necessary—slightly hoping that she would stop and maybe tell him to get in touch with her if he needed anything—but he only saw her turn around once, catching a glimpse of her blue eyes on his once, calm and cool.

It was almost disturbing that what he found so fascinating about her were all of the things most people probably found particularly bothersome: her penchant for speaking in riddles, the way she looked through you, rather than at you, and the gravitas she carried without even trying.

She had come into his life like a whirlwind, snatching up all manner of what once were peripheral emotions, and leaving turmoil in her wake. And now as she faded in and out of view, passing under the dull grey light of the street lamps, he felt it all slipping away.

He couldn't argue that she presented an exciting life. Or rather, an exciting life with her, which was an idea he had been stupidly holding onto all night. It had only been a few hours, but her presence had already become something of a friendly weight. She had a strange way of shutting out the world around him. Calling her a distraction would be a disservice, and a comfort not meaningful enough.

Shepard sighed and shook his head, but couldn't look away as he watched her finally vanish into the darkness.

* * *

><p><strong>0112 HRS, May 11, 2183<strong>

**Pax System, Horse Head Nebula**

"Wha-what's happening?"

His voice felt faint, even in the silence. The world was very fuzzy, and everything tasted like lemon meringue pie. Moving didn't come easy; it was as if he was wearing a heavy suit of armor (and he wasn't, not anymore). From what Shepard could tell, he was curled up on his side on top of a long, upholstered lounge seat built into the wall of what looked like a small train cabin, and his head was resting on something comfy, and warm. There was a pervading hum, but, along with the gentle feeling on his scalp, it was more soothing than annoying. He turned over onto his back and hazarded a look upward, fearing that he already knew what he would find.

But it wasn't one of the marines he left behind on Eden Prime that he saw when his vision cleared, just a very shapely, weary figure that had focused her attention on him after the movement. "You feeling okay?"

"I . . . I don't know. I think so." He had to concentrate hard and when her features finally came into focus, she was staring down at him, her gaze shrewd and appraising. Her eyes had lost a certain luminosity and the bags under them exuded an unhealthy wanness that reminded him she wasn't as invincible as he had built her up to be in his mind.

"I didn't expect you to be awake so soon. I still have no idea what happened when you touched that beacon." She paused. Her next words were so quiet he wasn't even sure if she really said them. "But it was certainly frightening."

The beacon. Thinking about that did make his head hurt. The last thing he remembered was that gripping feeling of panic as the thing came alive and started pulling him toward it. Somehow he had not only survived that, but gotten off-planet in time to avoid the bombs?

"Am I dead?"

She laughed quietly. "This is your vision of paradise? Waking up next to me on a run-down Asari transport?"

No, she was right. Plus, if that were the case, she probably would have been wearing much less clothing. Shepard suppressed a groan and hoped he hadn't said that out loud. In this state he was hardly sure one way or the other.

"The extraction could've gone smoother," she said. "But there's been no sign of the Alliance yet, although that's not really saying much."

He frowned. "Did you actually have any trouble making it out okay?"

"You worried about the future?"

It looked like she hadn't slept in days. "I'm worried about you."

She sighed. "It was nothing I couldn't handle. Don't fret about it. Besides, I'm not that one that just had a near-death experience."

He gave her a dubious look, but acquiesced. When he closed his eyes, he found that felt so much better. Now that he wasn't preoccupied with trying to focus on what he was seeing, he was finally able to identify that the sensation he was feeling was her running her hand through his hair. That meant his head was on her _lap_. He had to be really out of it if it took him this long to notice something like that.

"What-what are you . . .?" he trailed off and smacked his lips, bringing a hand up to rub his forehead. To her credit she didn't have to ask what he meant.

"We're supposed to be husband and wife," she said, and he immediately regretted the question if it meant she was going to stop her ministrations like that. "It wouldn't look very good if I tossed you to the other side of the room after you 'fainted'."

"We're married?" It was a stupid question, but not an all altogether revolting one. His head was swimming way too much to try and analyze the ramifications of _that_ thought. "What exactly happened while I was asleep?"

She was smirking at him now. "No, you credulous idiot, but I needed some kind of story to get us on board. And that seemed like it would go over better than escaped traitors."

"That makes it sound so bad. What about something more ambiguous, like renegades, or rogue spies?"

She rolled her eyes. "Alright, fine. We can be rogue spies instead."

He squinted at her, his senses feeling very dull. "I'm not so sure I like the idea of being a spy rather than your husband."

She chuckled softly. "Well at least I know the propofol didn't do too much damage. You're still you, as annoying as that is. Though you probably need your rest."

"You . . . drugged me?"

She nodded and grabbed his arm, which still rested on her thigh, and smoothly moved it back down to his side. "I had no idea what you'd be like when you did wake up, but I couldn't risk you making a scene before I could secure us a way out."

He tried to lift his head, but realized very quickly that was a bad idea. "That's a little much for a first date."

"Well then it's a good thing this is our second."

He ran his tongue over his teeth, trying to get the damn taste out of his mouth. "Is that why I feel so—so loopy?"

"Probably. Either that or the beacon." She was looking out the window now, and it occurred to him that he still had no idea what was going on.

Shepard hazarded another look around the room. The window was behind him but he still caught a glimpse of space and stars. "Where are we?"

"I used the shuttle to barter us passage onto this liner." She looked back down to him. "It was too dangerous to keep using it after the Alliance got a good look at it planetside. We'll be at Illium in a couple of hours, but until then you should relax."

"The colony." He was slowly regaining brain function. "What happened to it?"

She shushed him. "Too many questions. Get some sleep, and we can talk when you're feeling better."

She made it all seem so very formal. A colony was destroyed, presumably, and thousands, maybe millions, were dead. Oh, and it had been mostly his fault. Had it not been for the utter ineptness with which he handled pretty much everything after he got up in the middle of that field on Eden Prime, his team would've carried on with their mission. Whether it was the drugs, whatever the beacon did to him, or perhaps just his own conscience, a creeping feeling that felt much like death was edging into his stomach. All the darkness he'd tried to shut out threatened to start roaring back in and he shivered involuntarily.

She must've noticed because she brought a soft hand down to rest on his shoulder. He tried to anchor himself in the dimness of the pitiful cabin, the pounding in his head, her subtle encouragement, the not-so-subtle hardness of the bench he was resting on, and the familiar hand on his skin. Anything to stop the aimless drifting that he suddenly felt like he had been doing for years, just to keep any kind of reality from pushing through.

Before yesterday he had withstood his solitude impassively enough, without realizing quite how lonely he had come to feel. And tossed away from the world he knew, it was hard not to yearn for that feeling of being needed, if only to serve as a comfort. Even if she was only doing it to protect their well-being, and even if she never became anything more than a fantasy, he would take it.

"Remy," he mumbled, not opening his eyes. He felt her slide the hand down to rest on his chest.

"Hmm?"

"If I suddenly turn into one of those zombies, you have to shoot me, okay?"

"What, so you don't infect me?" she said. He nodded and could feel, rather than hear, her exasperated sigh. "You watch too many movies. You're not going to transform."

"Well, yes, those are the two outcomes. Either I do or I don't."

"Are we really having this conversation?"

"Okay, it's admittedly not as fascinating as staring uselessly out the window for the next few hours."

"They're not trying to eat your brain, Shepard. They are just synthetic-organics, and their existence has been known since the First Contact War."

If he wasn't fading so fast, he would've asked her how she could possibly have known that.

"And judging by what happened on that planet, as long as there aren't any of those spikes around, we will be fine," she said.

If he had any strength left, he would've groaned in disappointment. "It was way cooler before you explained it."

"It was absurdity until I explained it."

"You know, sometimes a simple yes or no answer is good enough," he said. He cracked open an eye to see her staring down at him, her nose wrinkled.

"I think I like you better when you're asleep."

He smiled a little, but tried not to let it show in his voice. "I'm just saying, someone has to be the brains of this group when I'm incapacitated."

She gave his nose a light pinch. "Small shoes to fill, but I'll fill them nonetheless. Now go to sleep."

Feeling much better, he yawned and turned his head, burrowing further into the cushion of the seat—and into her, but that was little more than an afterthought. They were safe, for now, and while the beacon thankfully hadn't killed him, it had done something. Perhaps, if they were lucky, it would be enough. Shepard slowly drifted away in the confines of the cramped train cabin and dared to hope.

* * *

><p><strong>0133 HRS, March 11, 2180<strong>

**La Grange Military Base, Newport, Rhode Island**

Shepard slumped against the cool, metal door as it shut with a bang. She was gone now, for good this time, and he hoped that made her a little sad, because it made _him_ a little sad. All of the closeness of the evening was gone, and all that remained was the frustration of knowing what the future held.

He knew that he would be embarrassed and stiff in the morning when he had to face Jacob. There would be plenty of questions about his night and teasing over how foolish he'd acted around someone who was clearly very connected and very powerful. But a bigger part of him was dreading Jacob's questioning exposing the closeness of last night for what it was: make-believe.

It had only been a short amount of time, but from the moment she left him at the bar, Shepard had been desperate to recapture that feeling. And—for a few minutes in the cold—he had. But now he was alone, and it was all unreal again. He was right back where he started, and he tried to tell himself that it was enough, just to have had her all to himself for those few fleeting moments. Only it wasn't.

Shepard was almost to his room when his omni-tool beeped again, a gloomy reminder of the past few minutes. He considered again hitting snooze on whatever alert had interrupted his earlier conversation, but curiosity got the better of him. The display came up and showed him it was a message that had been waiting for him. Shepard groaned. Even when Jacob wasn't there, he had a way of putting a damper on Shepard's interactions with his beautiful companion. He slumped against the wall, tapping a few buttons so that the text was brought up to read:

_I don't know where you are, but I hope you took my advice tonight. I certainly enjoyed myself and I can only hope that you can say the the very least, you deserve that much my friend. There's more that I want to tell you, but it's a little much to type into an omni-tool, and I'm almost asleep as it is. I left you a letter on the dining table that should explain just about everything. Hope you didn't live it up too much and are still able to read it whenever you get home._

_Jacob_

Shepard shook his head and let his wrist fall back to his side. If there were anyone else with him, he would've made a wisecrack about how it was very Jacob to write him a note telling him that he had left him a note. But he was alone, and Shepard would be perfectly fine if he lived the rest of his life without anyone else reminding him of _that_ fact.

By the time he reached his door, Shepard was so ready for this day to be over he would've been agreeable to just about whatever Jacob had in store for him. He fully expected to find his friend hunched over the kitchen table, scribbling down some final, meaningful information like it was 1852 and he was moving out West. Shepard fumbled with the buttons on the keypad as he tried to enter the code to his room, and the lock finally acquiesced after a few tries.

Though it wasn't terribly late, he still somehow managed to trip over the umbrella stand and make a lot of noise coming in. The crashing sound was amplified by how deathly quiet and empty the rest of the apartment was. The housing was only temporary, and therefore bare and unfurnished by default; the dull white walls barely visible through the stacks and stacks of cardboard boxes. Soon everything would be gone, leaving only a sea of white emptiness in its place. And with them would go the last vestiges of evidence that the "great" Commander Shepard had ever been here.

Shepard tried to look out into the disarray and confusion of the living room, but the place was as dark as it was silent. Only the steady hum of the building's power generator stopped his ears from ringing in the stillness. Jacob didn't snore, so it was impossible to tell if he was already asleep; especially since he always kept his door locked. Some ridiculous sentiment about never knowing what was coming. Shepard would've called him a gullible moron if he thought it would've made any difference. To steady himself, he reached for the back of the sofa in the darkness.

The only thing of note in the front rooms was the kitchen table, extending long enough to seat ten, leftover glass table settings and ornamented napkins stretching off into opulent darkness. Shepard belatedly remembered that whatever was so important that it couldn't wait until tomorrow, when they were both alert (and sober), was waiting for him somewhere on the table.

He shoved aside the candlesticks swamped with puddled beeswax and the bowl of oranges Jacob always insisted on having with him wherever he stayed. They actually weren't bad once you got used to the fact that they weren't real oranges. Crisply folded in half, a small sheet of what looked like a page torn off of a lined notepad rested gently in the center of the arrangement. Reluctantly, Shepard picked it up and began to read by the light of his omni-tool.

_Shepard,_

_I know, I know. I originally said I'd finish out the week with you before I went on to my next "spook adventure" as you love to call them. But now, things have changed. My.. situation has changed. Before you ask, no I can't give you any details, and I know that beyond your own annoying curiosity, you don't really care anyway. So let me just say this: sometimes what you need to do for yourself doesn't always make everyone else happy. You know that better than anyone. I don't know what you thought of.. Remy when you met her tonight, but even though she can be a little . . . uncompromising, what she's doing is important. And this time she needs my help. She's very good at what she does (though I'm sure she told you that herself), but more importantly: we can trust her. And if you don't believe that, then trust that__** I**__ believe in her. So I guess what I'm trying to say is that I'm leaving, first thing tomorrow. You'll still be out cold I'm sure, so I guess that makes this goodbye. I don't know when we'll see each other again, but I hope that Vancouver ends up being everything that you want it to be. _

_Who knows, maybe we can stop by sometime and share a coffee with you, or whatever it is that normal people do._

There was no signature at the bottom, but at this point that hardly seemed to matter. The two of them would be leaving in the morning, together; Jacob had made it clear. If there were any lingering doubts about the true nature of Remy's visit (to this room or the base itself, it made no difference), they were all but eliminated in the severity of the letter Shepard now held in his hand.

He crumpled the piece of paper, content to take out his frustrations on the note if his friend was too scared to face him. And make no mistake, Jacob _was_ avoiding the conversation that Shepard himself had been dreading only minutes ago. Now, however, Shepard's feelings more resembled consternation. He had blabbered on like a moron for far too long about his mystery woman before realizing that she was Jacob's . . . whatever she was, and at this point Shepard didn't care how ridiculous his disapproval looked. Jacob knew all of that, of course, which is why he heroically deigned to leave in the early morning light.

Shepard stumbled to his room and stopped in the doorway, dismayed, and tucked the wrinkled message into his inside jacket pocket. Shepard himself was never one for goodbyes, and Jacob knew that too. Though he was a little sad to his friend go, Jacob's feelings would surely be a little hurt if _he_ had done something like this without staying to at least try and explain himself. As for Remy: she didn't seem particularly upset to see the last of him, though in truth Shepard still felt a little sick to see her leave.

Shepard took a few steps into his room, shrugging off his shoes and then his jacket. He tossed the coat aside, not even flinching when it knocked over the wooden hat rack at which he'd been aiming. He sighed. In a few days he'd be off to his new life, Jacob off to his even sooner than that. And it would be a lie if he tried to act like he hadn't considered what it would be like to trade places with him, and that was something he _never_ would have thought about before tonight. He could only hope that they had both made the right decisions, but right now, in his soon-to-be empty apartment, he was less sure than he'd ever been.

Shepard fell into bed, not even bothering to remove his clothes, and wondered when life had gotten so complicated.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Much shorter this time! Posting nothing but 10k+ chapters would wear out both you and me I fear. I know the timelines have jumped around a lot. Sorry if that caused any confusion, but that will calm down fairly soon. I do plan on involving other characters in this other than just Shepard and Miranda, but they have a long way to go as it is.**


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